All in the Leaping Family
by Madwoman in the TARDIS
Summary: Sam, Alia, and a young Leaper named Ziggy Dalton Leap into the life of a Vietnam Veteran named Bruce Merrick. When Sam starts to lose his grip on reality, the others are left wondering who they're really meant to help.
1. The Leap In

Introducing Alia "Ziggy" Dalton, Johns Hopkins student turned Time Traveler

Author's note:There are three different timelines.The Leapers are in July/August 1984.During the time of Sam's Leap into Bruce Merrick, Al is in December 2000. Marina (Ziggy's Observer) is in June 2001.I will attempt to make the time frame as clear as possible before each scene.

Sam, Al, Alia, and the rest of the Quantum Leap cast belong to Don Bellisario and Universal.The title was taken from the title of the TV show _All in the Family._I don't know who owns the show, but it certainly is not me.Ziggy Dalton, Marina, Lester, etc. belong to yours truly.

**All in the Leaping Family**

July 28, 1984

The Leaper blinked rapidly as the blue light dissipated, leaving her to explore her new surroundings.She noticed that she was sitting at a small wicker table, a half-full glass of orange juice and a bowl of soggy Frosted Flakes in front of her._Don't these people know that Frosted Flakes tastes better dry?_She shook her head and attempted to force a spoonful down her throat.

"Will you hurry up, Reba?" a man shouted from the threshold of what she assumed to be the kitchen."We haven't got all day."

She let her eyes wander around the kitchen, and tried to get as much information as she possibly could.Based on the decorum, she was probably somewhere in the early to mid 1980's.A quick glance at today's sports page confirmed that she had Leaped into Rockdale, Oregon, on July 28, 1984.Looking down at her Host's outfit, she was able to assume that she had Leaped into a teenager or young adult._Well, you're only – what?Seventeen?Eighteen? – yourself.You can act like a teenager, easy._

"Did you hear me, Reba?" the man near the doorway was getting exasperated.

She felt her cheeks redden when she realized that he had been addressing her._I must be Reba._"Uh, sorry," she said."I was daydreaming … Dad."

"Sorry, sir," a voice corrected behind her.The Leaper nearly knocked over the glass of juice as she turned to greet her Observer.

"Sorry, sir," she quickly amended."I was daydreaming."

"I heard you the first time," the man said sharply."If you want me to drop you off at Kelly's, you'd better get your ass in gear.I gotta get to work."

Glad for an excuse to be rid of the disgusting cereal, the Leaper dumped remnants of her Host's breakfast down the drain, washed the bowl, glass, and spoon, and headed out of the kitchen.

"Your bedroom's upstairs," Marina told her."First door on the left."

She followed her Observer's instructions and quickly found herself in Reba's bedroom.The walls were plastered in posters of the Ramones, the New York Dolls, the Sex Pistols, and various other punk bands she failed to recognize.

"Good morning, Zigster," Marina greeted her."Or should I say _evening_?It's close to midnight where I am."

"Morning," Ziggy Dalton mumbled, her mind occupied with exploring aspects of her Host's life._I hate when she calls me _Zigster.

"You pick the worst possible times to Leap into a situation," Marina complained."I had to run out on Joey."The petite young woman peered up at her friend."You remember Joey Donovan, don't you?"

Ziggy nodded."Barely.But if memory serves me right, you should be glad the date was cut short.That guy was … what do you call people like that? … A nozzle."

_Reba is definitely not a neat freak,_ she decided as she stepped over a growing pile of laundry._Maybe I'm here to clean her room for her._The bed was unmade, and several times she nearly fell flat on her face.A green packpack had chosen an unfortunate position in the middle of the room.A long khaki overcoat slipped off its perch to reveal a full-length mirror.Ziggy stood in front of it and studied her Host's reflection.She appeared to be about 5'3, with brown eyes.Her Host's head was shaved, except for an electric blue Mohawk.She had body piercings all the way up her ears, her eyebrows, her nose, and, Ziggy guessed, in some body parts she cared not to think about.Reba was wearing a black Ramones t-shirt, plastic yellow pants, and torn sneakers.

"I'm a punk," she moaned.She turned to her Observer."How do I look?Maybe I should consider dying my hair blue."

Marina shook her head."Nah, you look scary enough as it is," she teased.Ziggy threw an orphaned sock at her friend, and watched her futile efforts sail through her friend's hologram body and onto the bed.In Marina's eyes, the girl in front of her was 5'5, and had piercing blue-grey eyes and wavy light brown hair pulled back in a loose French braid.A shock of white hair rested on the left side of her bangs.

Ziggy went into the bathroom to brush her teeth."Well?" she asked, her mouth full of Colgate.

"Well, what?" Marina asked.

"Who, what, where, when, why, how."Ziggy listed off the standard Leaping questions as she spit the toothpaste into the sink.

Marina wrinkled her nose."Lovely," she said dryly, then began the standard Observer's recitation."You've Leaped into Reba Merrick, age fifteen, on …"

"July 28, 1984," Ziggy interrupted.

Marina nodded."Good.Right now you are in Reba's father's house in …"

"Rockdale, Oregon."

"Are you sure you still need me?" Marina teased."You seem to be pretty good at this on your own."

"No wait!" Ziggy protested.

Reba's father knocked on the bathroom door."If you're not in the car in five minutes, you can walk to Kelly's," he shouted.

Marina shrugged and looked down at the silver-blue hand link.The palm-sized computer also served as a beeper, calculator, and mobile Imaging Chamber.Nobody could ever fathom that pressing a certain button on Marina's beeper released an array of holographic images of the past.

"I'd get a move-on if I were you," Marina said."It's a good twenty-five minute walk to Kelly's house."

Ziggy grabbed the backpack and followed Reba's father to the car.

She supplied Ziggy with more information on the way to Kelly's."Your father -Reba's father's name is Colonel Bruce Merrick.He served in Vietnam.Reba's mother, Linda, walked out on the family when she was three."She scrutinized the man behind the wheel of the red pickup truck."Probably left to escape _him._"

"Marina!" Ziggy admonished.Noticing the strange look Colonel Merrick sent her, she quickly added, "Have you ever been to a marina, dad?"

The Colonel nodded."Yeah, I been to plenty of marinas.What is this?Random question time?"

"That was terrible, Zig," Marina groaned.She continued giving her friend information."Colonel Merrick's time in Vietnam left him bitter and cynical.He started drinking heavily when he returned, and I wouldn't be surprised if the nozzle hurt Linda or Reba."Ziggy's eyes widened."Don't worry, kid!" Marina assured her friend."Reba says that her father quit drinking about five years ago."

Ziggy breathed a sigh of relief."Ok, then," she whispered, as the truck pulled up in front of a house. "Why am I here?"

The Colonel, thinking the question was directed at him, answered first."You're here because you've been begging me to let you spend the day with Kelly," he snapped."Now get out so I can get to work!"

Ziggy quickly obliged.A woman in her early forties opened the door."Hello, Reba," the woman greeted her.

"Morning … ah …" _Who is she?_ She silently asked her friend.

Marina glanced down at the hand link."That's Jean Davis," she answered."Kelly's mother."

"Morning, Mrs. Davis," Ziggy said."Is Kelly here?"

"She's in the basement."

Kelly Davis, Ziggy and Marina discovered, was as much of a punk as Reba Merrick.The magenta-haired teenager was sitting cross-legged on a tattered orange couch and picking chords on a bass guitar. She looked up when she heard Ziggy enter.

"Hey, Rage," she called to who she assumed to be her best friend. 

"_Rage _is Reba's nickname around her friends," Marina supplied.

"Where's your drum set?" Kelly asked as Ziggy joined her on the couch.

"Tell her it's up her ass," Marina suggested.

Ziggy rolled her eyes at her friend."I … forgot them."_Sounds good enough._

"Aw, c'mon, man.How are we gonna practice?"

Ziggy gave her Observer a _Give me a hint look._

"Reba and Kelly are in a local band.El … Electric Shoo …" she smacked the hand link."Electric Shock!I probably don't have to tell you what instruments they play."

"What time did we say we'd practice?" Ziggy asked.She rummaged through the backpack and found a collection of music sheets. 

"Grimm, Tonsil, and Matthew are meeting us here at one." The Buddweiser clock on the wall read eight thirty-three."I'll get Kevin to drive us to your house when he wakes up."

Marina snorted."Kevin is Kelly's older brother," she explained."My guess is this guy probably won't wake up until three in the afternoon."

_I've been here for about two hours,_ the Leaper told herself._I know who, what, when, and where.All that's left now is why._ "Why am I here?" she mouthed.

Marina shrugged."We don't know yet."She pressed a button on the hand link."Listen, Zig, I got a Bio lab in fifteen minutes."Three chimes later, Marina disappeared, leaving her friend alone in the past.

* * *

Alia Worthington crawled through the tunnel of blue light that surrounded her between her Leaps.Sometimes, she regretted not having an Observer to guide her.But then she'd remember Zoey, and shudder.Improving people's lives, when you had nothing to go on but your own instinct and no idea of how your efforts succeeded, was difficult at times.But it was a far cry from having a vicious woman like Zoey inform you of how you were to destroy your Host.After all thoseyears of fixing lives for the worse, the idea of a Leaper actually _helping _people was entirely insane._You've always helped people,_ a voice reminded her._You tried to teach Jimmy LaMotta to read._Her mission that Leap was to send the mentally disabled man to an institution.She liked Jimmy; she didn't want to hurt him.When Zoey asked her why she was doing what she was doing, her excuse had been that it would tear apart the family.Which, in a way, was true. "Connie" turned all her attention away from her husband and transferred it to his brother.

When she and Dr. Samuel Beckett had first made contact, something inside of her changed.It eased her mind to know that someone was out there who cared about others.If she ever voiced her opinion to Zoey, Lothos would fry her brains.

She continued to crawl through the abyss._If I'm lucky, the voices will tell me what I'm supposed to do._She could almost imagine the theme to _Mission: Impossible_ playing softly in the distance.

_Your mission, if you choose to accept it … is to reunite a family._

_What family?_ She asked the voice.She was greeted by silence._How do I know who I'm here to help if you don't tell me? What family?_

Her only answer was a sudden drop into a new Leap.She was sitting on the edge of a bed, holding a phone.The two queen-size beds, TV, peeling dresser, thick curtains, open suitcase, and half-eaten breakfast tray told Alia that she had Leaped into a motel room.

"Hello?Hello? Anyone there?" a voice called out.

Alia realized she had a phone to her ear."Sorry," she apologized to the person on the other line."I didn't hear what you just said."

"Would you like me to connect you to your party?"

She noticed a Motel 6 notepad on the nightstand, a phone number scrawled across it.She didn't know who her Host was trying to call, so she decided to be on the safe side."No, thank you," she told the operator."I'll try them again later."

She stood up and explored the room she was in.Her first destination was the mirror overlooking the sink.Her Host was wearing a teal sundress and sandals.She appeared to be in her mid-thirties to early forties, with brown eyes and short black hair pulled up in a loose bun.

_Summertime,_ she guessed.The edition of _U.S. News_ that had been shoved under the door informed her that she had guessed correctly.The date was July 28, 1984.

_Now to find out my identity._She rummaged through a purse on the other bed.A driver's license told her that she had Leaped into thirty-seven year-old Linda Daniels of Culver City, California.

Alia wasn't sure if Linda was coming or going.Based on there being only one suitcase, she figured her Host was probably traveling alone.There were only three or four outfits in the suitcase, so this was obviously a short visit.Yesterday's edition of _The Rockdale Daily News_ rested atop the clothes.She skimmed over a few sentences until she gathered that Rockdale was in Oregon.

Alia checked the watch on her Host's hand.Eleven-thirty.Her stomach quietly rumbled, and she decided that an early lunch was in order.The leftover eggs benedict didn't look appetizing to her.She grabbed her – Linda's – purse and keys and headed out into the parking lot.

_Where's your car, Linda?_She waited for someone or something to point out the identity of her Host's ride.Instead, she spotted a Denny's across the street._I'll find your car later,_ she silently told her Host, and jogged toward the diner.

* * *

_Why won't you let me go home? _Dr. Samuel Beckett complained as he traveled through the void._I'm so tired.I can't do this anymore._

_Sure you can,_ the voice assured him.

Sam shook his head._Not anymore.I can't do this.I want to go home._

When Big Al told him that the Leaps would get harder, he had never elaborated on how hard.Sam had found out soon enough.He'd been the sole survivor of a plane crash, been trapped in a fire, and endured a gay bashing.His last Leap, into a drug addict in 1967, had been the final straw.Mind merging with Jack Sanders caused him to suffer the horrendous effects of a bad LSD trip.He was drowning in a canal when God or Time or Fate or Whatever it was that controlled his Leaps snatched him out of the situation.

_Please,_ he pleaded with the voice. _I quit.I give up.Now just let me go home._

Instead, he was thrown into yet another situation.

"What did you think of the proposal, Colonel?" a heavyset man inquired.

Sam looked around the tiny office.Since the only occupants in the room were the man and himself, he assumed that the question had been directed to him."Um, I don't really know," he hedged.His eyes were beginning to droop, and he forced himself to keep them open._Can you get out of here so I can sleep?_ He mentally begged the other man.

"Haven't you read it?" the man motioned to a booklet on his Host's desk.

"Not all of it," Sam confessed."When should I give you an answer?"

The man shook his head."Come on, Merrick, you told me you'd read everything last night."

"I lied," Sam snapped."Come back later."

_What if this man's your boss?_ The voice scolded._You don't want to get Merrick fired, do you?_

The man simply nodded and exited the office.Sam snatched up the booklet and flipped through the proposal, using his photographic memory to store information for his next encounter with that man.Even though the seventy-four page proposal was full of charts and equations that Sam usually enjoyed solving, today he was too tired to care.He felt his head drop down into his chest.

"No sleeping on the job!" someone barked from behind him.

Sam jolted himself awake and turned to face his Observer."Oh, hi," he said coolly.The short man in front of him was decked out in his usual red suit and red fedora.

Admiral Albert Calavicci feigned a look of hurt."_Oh, hi_?That's all you're gonna say to me?"

"Hello, Al," Sam corrected himself through gritted teeth.

Al peered at his friend."What's bugging you?" he asked.

Sam slammed his fist against the back of the chair."Nothing!" he snapped."I'm just a little tired now, so could you please go away?"

_How can he be tired?_ Al wondered._He's only been in this Leap for fourteen minutes._"I'll leave, but first I need to tell you who you are," he assured his friend.

"Maybe I don't care," Sam said.

Al pretended to ignore him, but made a mental note to consult Beeks."Your name is Colonel Bruce Merrick.You're forty-one years-old, and you lee … li …" whack "live in Rockdale, Oregon, with your fifteen-year-old daughter, Reba.You are currently working for McHauley's Cal …" whack "Calculators, Inc.Your job is to design new calculators."He coughed in Sam's ear when he realized that his friend wasn't listening to him."Bruce Merrick," he shouted."Forty-one years …"

"I heard you, damnit!" Sam hissed."Now tell me when I am and get the hell outta my sight!"

"July 28, 1984," Al supplied the information as he conjured up the door to the Imaging Chamber."Take it easy, kid," he ordered his friend as he stepped into the triangle of bright white light."Just take it easy."

As the Observer handed the handlink to the Chief Programmer, a disturbing thought gnawed at his brain._This is not going to be an easy Leap._


	2. Baltimore

June 12, 2001

June 12, 2001

"Don't bother showing your ugly mug around my house again!" the gravelly voice at the other end slurred, then abruptly cut off the connection.

Marina replaced the phone in its cradle.She knew her mother was going to be upset at her for missing yet another family function, but she didn't care.She was supposed to fly to Albuquerque for her father's birthday; Ziggy's new Leap gave everyone a sudden change in plans.She didn't mind missing out on one of her dad's boozy rages._Better go check on the Guest_, she told herself._Maybe that will keep my mind off Dad._She went downstairs to the basement and nodded at the two young men huddled around the computer in the corner of the room.

"How's it hangin'?" Johnny Hearst said in his thick Brooklyn accent.

"Got a B- on my last Bio lab," she answered triumphantly.

"Your old man musta been proud," Lester said.When he saw the worried look in his friend's eyes, he ran a dark hand over his shaved head."You told him, didn't you?"A nod."How'd he take it?"

"The usual response," Marina said.She pulled up a chair behind the boys."Drunk off his ass."A bitter laugh."He's been drinking and it's only ten in the morning!"

To the neighbors in this Baltimore suburb, the two-story brown house was home to four Johns Hopkins grad students.What they didn't realize was that the basement housed a secret time travel experiment, or that a fifth, unknown, occupant of that house was stuck in the past.The basement was separated into two rooms.The larger of the two rooms was visible from the stairs.It housed a computer, an old-fashioned telephone booth, and a silver disk on the ground enclosed by a circle of red love beads.The telephone booth had been rewired and served as an Acceleration Booth.The concoction of silver disk and love beads served as an Imaging Chamber.The second room, in the far right corner of the basement, held a twin bed, a folding chair, and a nightstand.A tiny, handheld mirror remained hidden under the bed.This room was referred to as the Guest Room.

"How's the Guest?" Marina inquired.

"She's talking to Fatima," answered Lester.

Marina placed her key in the lock and joined Fatima Al-Quan and Reba Merrick.When they had started the experiment, they had changed the lock on this room.People could only enter and exit the Guest Room with a key.

"Morning, Reba," Marina greeted the teenager in front of her.Unlike the rest of her friends, who saw the aura of Ziggy Dalton, Marina was able to see the Guests' true identities. 

"How the hell do I get outta here?" the girl spat back.

"Like I explained to you …" Fatima nodded in Marina's direction."You can't go home until my friend does what she's there to do."

"She'd better have a good excuse for my old man."Reba wrinkled her nose in disgust."She's the one who's gonna have to deal with him when he asks where the hell I am."

_She's afraid of her father_, Marina observed.She didn't need Lester's mother or Fatima to tell her that."Mind if I sit down?"When Reba gave her accent, she pulled the chair up to the bed."Your … father … isn't going to be mad," Marina assured the girl.

"Do I look like I care?" Reba huddled against the corner and drew her arms to her chest."I'm not there to give a damn."

Marina took a deep breath."I'm not sure how much Fatima told you."From the expression on her friend's face, it didn't appear to be much."You have accidentally been caught up in a special project.A friend of mine is … ah … pretending to be you for a few days … in order to help you improve your life or the lives of those around you."

Reba scratched the back of her head._Needs more gel._"You're full of shit."A puzzled expression clouded her face."How does she pretend to be me?"

_Here we go_, Marina thought as she prepared for yet another Leaping ritual.She bent down and retrieved the mirror from underneath the bed."Don't be alarmed by what you see," she told the girl before handing her the mirror.She waited patiently while Reba stared at the mirror, gasped at the reflection that clearly was not her own, and choked back a scream when she saw the stranger in the mirror copying all her movements.She grabbed the mirror before the startled girl could drop it.

"What you are seeing is the aura of my friend," Marina explained. "Everyone here except me can see and hear her.Back where you came from, she is surrounded by your aura.People see and hear you."Reba nodded, but Marina could tell that she didn't fully comprehend what was going on.Marina stood up and started to exit the room."Would you like anything to eat?" she asked.

"Got any cheese sandwiches?" Reba wanted to know.

"Well, I can make a mean grilled cheese," Marina boasted.She stifled Fatima's attempts at ribbing with a glare."I'll be back in twenty minutes."

* * *

When Marina had met Ziggy Dalton nearly four years earlier, the last thing she'd ever have expected was to actually become friends with the young genius.It had been her sophomore year at Hopkins, and she was stuck living in the dorms.Her roommate that year was a puny freshman.What made matters worse was that this kid was a fifteen-year-old child prodigy – a double Premed and Physics student who knew more than half the graduate professors.When the little brat got the only passing grade on a relatively difficult Intro to Physics exam, Marina and her friends decided to make her life a living hell.Looking back, Marina winced when she remembered how they had pulled every horrendous trick in the book.The final prank was smearing mayonnaise all over Ziggy's sheets while she slept.The next day, Marina noticed that her entire body was severely itchy.When she returned to her room several hours later, she immediately confronted the smirking brat sitting on a chair under the window.

"Itching powder," the girl explained smugly, and held up a tiny yellow bottle before Marina could call on her family temper to lash out at her.Ziggy stood up and approached her roommate."I put it in your body wash."Marina's mouth dropped open."Two can play this game, you know," she hissed.She circled her astonished roommate."Bother me again and you'll be dealing with a helluva lot more than itching powder._Comprende_?"

Marina nodded.She hated to admit it, but Ziggy's prank was pretty clever."That was a neat trick," she admitted as she scratched her arm."Where'd you pull something like that from?"

The younger girl's eyes softened."One of my foster brothers," she mumbled, suddenly interested in the floor."He once told me _us street kids need to do what we can to survive._"She looked up at her roommate and retreated back."I'm … I'm sorry, Marina."

For some reason she couldn't understand, Marina felt her heart tugging.All thoughts of revenge wafted into thin air.She had gained a newfound respect for this kid who was determined to survive at all costs.And, as the semester progressed, she also gained a new best friend.She introduced her friend to Lester, someone she'd only become friends with after finding out that her father and his mother worked together.When Lester and Johnny moved into a two-story house on the outskirts of Baltimore and invited Marina to live with them, she demanded that Ziggy be allowed to join them.And when her younger friend begged her assistance with a pet project involving quantum physics and time travel, Marina was only too glad to comply.Her father's best friend had influenced her decision to study Physics in college.Marina and Ziggy's knowledge of Physics, combined with Lester's computer expertise and Johnny's knack for mathematical and scientific equations cemented the experiment in stone.They had rewired a computer to hold vast historical and scientific records.Ziggy had insisted on personalizing the machine by giving it a name.The girl-crazy Johnny gave Quanta a voice not unlike Mae West.In fact, a picture of the film screen icon graced the wallpaper of the computer.

Marina had been en route to a Chemistry exam that cold afternoon in early December when she received a frantic page from Lester.To this day, her family still didn't know how she could have failed what should have been a simple test._It was probably because I skipped the test and helped a scared sixteen-year-old girl operate a Ferris wheel in the year 1993,_ she said in her mind as she shrugged dumbly at her angry father's inquiries.Little did she know that the following two and a half years would be full of those moments.

* * *

Marina flipped over the grilled cheese before one side turned black.The phone rang, but she ignored it._Let someone else pick it up for a change._Fatima complied with her silent wish.

"Welcome to the Zoo," she greeted the caller at the other end.

_Bill and Ted's Time Traveling Zoo,_ Marina added silently.She scooped up the finished sandwich with the spatula and prepared to transfer it to a waiting plate. 

"Oh, hi," Fatima said, acknowledging Marina's mother.

_I'm not here!_ Marina mouthed.

Fatima ignored her."She's right here."She handed the phone to her friend.

_You're dead meat, pal,_ Marina hissed quietly as she prepared to endure another of her mother's lectures._If you weren't helping us keep our sanity, I'd kill you._The Kuwaiti American woman drew upon her courses in Social Psychology to make observations and conclusions about the Guests and the other members of the experiment.

"I just don't understand, Rina," her mother was saying."We've been looking forward to spending your father's birthday with all four of you."

"Sorry, Ma," Marina said.She handed the grilled cheese to Fatima."Something unexpected came up."

"What do you mean, _something unexpected_?" her mother asked."You're only twenty-three years-old.What happened that's so important that you have to miss your father's birthday … again?"

_If you only knew,_ she thought bitterly._ The perfect excuse to avoid _him."Dr. Cane decided to drop a surprise exam in our laps," she lied.

The woman on the other end of the conversation sighed in resignation."Alright, Marina.Just promise me that you'll call to wish him a happy birthday."

"No problem.Talk to you later, Mom."

She stared at the phone for a full three minutes before slamming it down.She felt rotten for spoiling her father's birthday, but only because it disappointed her mother.She didn't give two craps how her father felt.She and the man were never close, but this year, she utterly hated him.Six months earlier, his best friend had committed suicide and he'd taken up drinking again.He'd been a drunk years earlier, but quit drinking when Marina was seven.This friend had been the salvation that salvaged her parents' crumbling marriage and got her dad into AA meetings.He instilled a love of Physics into Marina and encouraged her to apply to Johns Hopkins, her dream school.Six years ago, he immersed himself into his work. Marina didn't see his face again until his funeral.She wanted to murder the already dead man when life as she knew it began to disintegrate around her.The company her parents, Lester's mom, and this scientist had worked at for nearly a decade suddenly collapsed.Her father quickly retreated into a world of Vodka and Scotch.She couldn't stand being around the old man after he'd been drinking.

The intercom over the counter buzzed, bringing Marina back to the present.She pressed the Talk button."Yes?"

"Got some info for you," Johnny told her."Dirt for Zigs."

After downing a glass of cranberry-apple juice, Marina Calavacci joined Lester Beeks and Johnny Hearst in the basement and prepared to study the newest data on their friend's Leap.


	3. Why Am I Here?

December 21, 2000 Sarah M. Brown Sarah M. Brown 14 658 2001-10-29T21:35:00Z 2001-11-10T21:57:00Z 4 2519 14360 119 28 17635 9.3821 0 0 

December 21, 2000

Dr. Verbena Beeks finished typing up her initial report on the current Leapee.  John Lennon's _Woman_ was playing on the Project speakers as part of Ziggy's month long tribute to the twentieth anniversary of the musician's death.  Verbena didn't mind listening, but she found the music distracting.  The one person who would appreciate the computer's tribute wasn't even here – or in this time, for that matter.  She still had to input the data into Ziggy's files, type up a final report on the results of the previous Leap, call the restaurant to confirm the reservations for the company Christmas party, and return her mother's phone calls before the woman got a hernia.  And it was only nine o'clock in the morning.

            A knock on the door of her office interrupted her work.  "It's open," she said to whoever was on the other side.

            Al Calavicci marched in, closed the door, and proceeded to sit on the couch, or as he referred to it, the "dissection table".

"And what pleasure do I have of your company?" Verbena greeted him.

            "What was your impression of the Guest?" Al asked.  "I mean, how'd you find his demeanor?"

            "He seemed a little distrustful," she told him.  "But that's understandable.  Most visitors don't accept their situation that quickly.  He was stiff and stressed out.  He mentioned that he served in Vietnam.  You might be able to get information from him; he'd probably trust you."

            "That's a good idea," Al agreed.  He took a cigar from his breast pocket and absentmindedly twirled it in his fingers.  "Did he seem irritable to you?  Tired?"

            Verbena shook her head.  "Not that I noticed.  Why?" She saw a glimpse of worry in the Admiral's eyes.  "Is Sam okay?"

            Al shook his head.  "That's the thing, Bena.  He was in the Leap for fourteen minutes and already he was exhausted.  Usually, he pesters me to supply him with information so he can get right to work putting things right."  He stood up and began pacing the room.  "He could give a rat's ass about this Leap.  Just wanted to be left alone and go to sleep."

            "Those last few Leaps have been tough on him, haven't they?" Verbena said.

            Al nodded.  "But he's usually refreshed by the time he Leaps into a new situation.  And most times he doesn't remember a previous Leap."

            "If it makes you feel any better, I'll have Ziggy break into Merrick's medical records.  Find out if he's been treated for depression."

            "Yeah, you do that.  Maybe the guy's depressed and Sam's got some of that depression."  He tried to take comfort in that idea.  "Have Ziggy search his med charts."

            A sultry voice broke in, filling up the room.  "Why don't you ask me directly?" the voice said.  "You are aware that I am monitoring this conversation."

            "Yeah, and we're aware that you're a snoop," Al muttered.

            The parallel hybrid computer sighed.  "I'm only doing my job.  You don't appreciate me."

            Al shook his fist at the ceiling.  "You wanna be appreciated?" he shot back.  "Do what Beeks said and get us Merrick's med sheets."

"Right now?" Ziggy asked.  "I was listening to John Lennon."

            "No, next year.  Of course _now_!  Or I'll string out your parts from here to New Jersey."

            "I find John Lennon's music to be very inspiring.  If you took the time to listen to it, you'd agree," Ziggy informed him.  "But I doubt that a man of your stature can appreciate true beauty."

            Verbena rolled her eyes.  "Enough, you two," she said.  "Ziggy, just do what the Admiral tells you."  She closed the folder and placed it on the growing pile.  "And turn down the music please."

* * *

July 28, 1984

"Al, wait!" Sam called out.  "I … I didn't mean it."  The slam of the Imaging Chamber door was his only reply.  He sank down in the chair and buried his face in his hands.  _What's wrong with me?_ He asked himself.  _Why do I feel so tired?_

Those quantum electrodes that precious Admiral of yours is pumping into your bloodstream would make anybody overly fatigued.

Sam nearly fell out of his seat when he heard the voice.  It reminded him of Al, except this person's voice was harsh and raspy.  "Excuse me?" he said.  

Admiral Calavicci is trying to kill you, Dr. Beckett.

Sam shook his head.  "Al would never try to hurt me," he told the voice.  He eyeballed Merrick's office, trying to locate the source of the sound.

The mystery person emitted a sinister laugh.  _That's what you think, Dr. Beckett.  Ever since he met you, Calavicci's wanted nothing more than to see you dead._

Sam scratched his head and stood up.  "Who are you?" he demanded.

_I am your conscience, _the voice answered.  Now, Sam was sure it was Al.  He sounded like he did when he Leaped into a valet to a modern-day Scrooge.

"Is this your idea of a joke, Al?" He pounded his fist on the desk.

"Who's Al?"

Sam whirled around to face the heavyset man from when he first Leaped in.  _Most likely Mr. McHauley,_ he guessed.  "My daughter's pet rock."

The man's brow furrowed.  "Pet rock?"

"Yeah, _pet rock_," the physicist spat out.  "What do you want?"  McHauley's mouth opened in disgust, and even Sam was shocked at how harsh he sounded.

McHauley saved him from concocting an excuse.  "Have you read the proposal … yet?"  He crossed his arms over his chest.

Sam mimicked his actions.  "Yes, sir," he said.  "It was the worst piece of garbage I've ever seen."

McHauley's mouth dropped open.  "Excuse me, Merrick?"

"I … I'm sorry," Sam mumbled.  "I … I don't know why I said that," he explained sheepishly.  _Whatever is going on in my head, I hope it stops soon._

The voice let out a shrill whistle, causing Sam to wince.  _Why, Samuel, dear, the fun's just started._

"I need to get out of here," he announced.  He quickly stuffed a few items in Merrick's briefcase, threw the proposal on the floor, and marched out of the office.

"Merrick!" McHauley shouted behind him.  "Merrick!  What in tarnation is going on with you today?"

Sam turned around.  "I'm not Merrick," he hissed.  "Merrick went away.  You're dealing with me now."   He brushed past his shocked boss and left the building.

"Uh, Sam, Merrick doesn't leave the office for another five hours," a gravelly voice informed him as he stepped into the late July afternoon sunshine.

The physicist ignored his Observer and continued walking.   After being cooped up all day in that stuffy office, this was a welcome relief.  _Stuffy office?_ He asked himself.  _Sam, you **lived** in stuffy offices.  Why would they bother you now?_  Right now, all he knew was that if he stayed there, he would explode.

Al watched the conflict play itself across Sam's face.  "What's wrong, kid?" 

"Nothing, Al," Sam replied through gritted teeth.  "Everything's just fine and dandy."  He stormed off down the sidewalk, not knowing nor caring where he was headed.

Al shook his head.  "Liar.  I know you too well, Sam.  You were never good at hiding things."  He repositioned his image so he was eye-to-eye with the Leaper.  "What's wrong, Sam?" he repeated.  

_Should I tell him?_ Sam wondered.  He bit his lip and faced the older man.  "If I knew how to tell you, don't you think I would?" he said quietly.  The blood trickling down his lip was an eerie comfort to him.

"Can you at least try?" Al asked.

Sam shook his head.  "You know how you once told me I was _part of a scientific experiment that went a little kaka?_"  Al nodded.  "Well, that's how I feel right now.  Like my mind's going _a little kaka._"  He noticed his friend's worried expression and cringed.  "Do you know why I'm here?"

Al consulted the hand link.  "There's a sixty-eight point eight percent chance that you're here to stop a hero … stop a hero?" He raised a bushy eyebrow and whacked the hand link.  "Oh!  You're here to stop a heroin overdose."

"Who overdoses?" Sam asked.  "Reba?"

"No, not Reba," Al told him.  "A kid named Matthew Johnston.  Reba's boyfriend."  He shook the hand link a few times until the words on the screen became more legible.  "He was found dead in LeRoy "Grimm" Grimowski's garage at approximately 2am on August 2."  He shuddered at the next words.  "The poor kid was dead for at least three or four hours.  Matthew, Grimm, and Reba were members of this band …" He started to explain.  It was then that he realized the Leaper had stopped paying attention and was absentmindedly digging his big toe in the dirt.  "Sam?" No response.  "Earth to Sam Beckett!" he bellowed in his best _Admiral voice._

"If he wants to throw away his life, that's his problem," Sam mumbled.

Al's jaw dropped.  "That doesn't sound like the Sam Beckett I know.  What happened to Don Quixote?  You Becketts are stubborn nozzles … I've never seen you quit so easily before."

Sam looked up from the ground and glared at his Observer.  "Watch me."

* * *

"Good afternoon, my name is Tammy," the waitress announced in an overly perky tone.  "I'll be your server today.  Can I take your drink orders?"

"Coke," Kelly said.

Ziggy skimmed over the beverage menu.  "I'll have an iced tea … sweetened."

"I thought you hated sweet tea," Kelly said.

The Leaper shrugged.  "It's an acquired taste," she explained.  "Thought I'd give it another shot."

Tammy pocketed the miniature notepad.  "I'll be right out to take your orders," she told them before heading for the kitchen.

The two had spent the morning watching cartoons until Mrs. Davis suggested that they go to Denny's for lunch.  Ziggy secretly agreed.  It would give her the chance to get a feel for the town she had Leaped into.  She spent a few minutes studying the menu, and came to a toss up between a mushroom and Swiss burger or linguini Alfredo.  She heard the Imaging Chamber door opening behind her.  

"Reba's a vegetarian," Marina informed her.  

_That solves that problem.  _She craned her neck to face her Observer.  Marina Calavicci was decked in a pair of faded black jeans, an Orange Crush t-shirt, black clogs, and a black fedora.  _Anything?_

Marina reappeared in front of Ziggy, her torso cut in half by the table.  The Leaper cringed.  "Sorry about that," Marina said, and readjusted herself until she was next to the booth.  "You need to relieve your bladder," she hinted.  She noticed her friend looking at the fedora.  "Used to be my dad's," she explained.

The two friends seemed to have their most intense conversations in a bathroom.  It wasn't limited to the Leaps; even when Ziggy was home in her own Time, they used to hold heated debates or "bonding sessions".

"Do you know what you want to order?" Ziggy asked Kelly.

"Oh, right, you haven't ordered yet."  Marina punched in buttons on the hand link.  "I'll meet you in the john in ten minutes," she told her friend before vanishing.

"What do you mean, _commits suicide_?" Ziggy asked.  She leaned against the sink.

"He kills himself," Marina explained, still looking at the hand link.

Ziggy rolled her eyes.  "I know what _suicide_ means, Rina.  But why?"

Marina held up her hands.  "Why does anybody consider suicide?"

"Was my … Reba's father ever diagnosed as depressed?"

Marina consulted the hand link.  "Johnny's trying to hack into local medical records, but Reba says he hasn't been as far as she's aware of."

Ziggy shook her head.  "I doubt that Bruce Merrick would tell his daughter about his psychological trouble."

"It might be related to Vietnam," suggested Marina.

"Didn't the Vietnam War end in 1974?"  

An elderly woman entered the rest room, sent a shocked look the Leaper's way, and headed into a stall.  Ziggy turned on the sink and pretended to wash her hands.

"Yes," Marina answered.  "But that doesn't mean the memories disappear."  She casually passed the hand link back and forth between her hands.  "My dad still has flashbacks."

The Leaper waited until the coast was clear again before resuming her inquiries.  "When does Quanta say it happens?"

Marina walked through the row of sinks.  "In four nights.  According to the news reports, he hurled himself out of a third story window at McHauley's Calculators, Inc."

"What was he doing at a calculator store?"

"He wasn't _at a calculator store_," Marina clarified.  "It's his office.  The company designs calculators."

"So all I have to do is keep close tabs on the Colonel and make sure he doesn't go to the office that night?"

Marina nodded.  "But it's not as easy as it seems."

Ziggy agreed.  "I'd better go back to the table," she told her Observer.  "Wouldn't want Kelly thinking I fell in."

* * *

June 12, 2001

Admiral Albert Calavicci grabbed the bottle of Bicardi Rum out of the liquor cabinet and shakily opened it.  He blinked back a wave of nausea and peered into the mouth of the bottle.

"Damn!" he grumbled.  He carelessly tossed the bottle to the floor, dimly registering the sound of broken glass.

The face of Dr. Samuel John Beckett haunted his blurry vision.  He quickly grabbed a bottle of Jack Daniels and took a large swig.  He knew that all this drinking wasn't healthy, but it was the only way to become numb.  The only way to forget the pain of losing his best friend of sixteen years.  He gripped the edge of the cabinet and slid down to the floor, ignoring the shards of broken glass that surrounded him.  He took another swig of booze and waited for the warm liquid to course into his veins.  The alcohol wasn't doing what it was supposed to do, because memories of the Leaper suddenly filled his mind.

* * *

August 1, 1984

            Dr. Sam Beckett paced the length of his Host's office.  "What the hell do you mean, I can't Leap home?"

            Al took the cigar out of his mouth.  "The Retrieval Program still has a few glitches," he explained.  "Besides, you still have to save Matthew."

            "What happens if I don't save him?"

            "He overdoses on heroin," Al reminded him.  "If you don't intervene …"

            "He'll die," Sam cut in.  "So what?"   He pounded his fist against the back of the chair.  "If I prevent him from overdosing during my Leap, who's to say he won't overdose after I'm gone?"

            The older man shrugged.  "You could convince him to check into a rehab center."  He inhaled the scent of the Chianti.  "And if that doesn't work, at least you've helped him this time."  His assurances were met with a glare from the Leaper.  "Aw, Sam, you can't save the world."

            "You think I don't know that!" Sam shouted.  "I'm sick of Leaping!"  He brushed his hand across the desk and sent its contents hurtling across the room.  "I've been doing this for far too long."  He wrinkled his nose.  "Why did you build Quantum Leap, Sam?" he asked in a mocking tone.  "To change history for the better?  To put right what once went wrong?  To make the world a better place?"  He sneered.  "Fuck what that bartender said.  That man was a goddamned liar."

            Al peered out of the office, checking to make sure nobody was in earshot of his friend's tirade.  However; he was more concerned with the amount of curse words spewing out of the man's lips.  Cursing was a common occurrence to Admiral Calavicci, but the mere mention usually made the prude Indiana farm boy turn red.

            "That was just a dream, Sam," he told the younger man.  He knew that wasn't entirely true.  He remembered having a conversation with Sam outside a bar called _Al's Place._  His friend had been rambling on about God being a bartender, seeing familiar faces from previous Leaps, and a dead Leaper with his Uncle Stawpah's name and afflictions.  Sam had even Leaped into himself.  But there was no mention of such a Leap anywhere in Ziggy's databases.  

            Sam burst out laughing.  "_You can Leap home any time you want to._  Any time I want to?"  He whirled around to face his Observer.  "Any time I want to?" he repeated.  "Well, I'd like to Leap home now."

            Al sighed.  "I wish to God you could Leap home _now_.  But it's God or Time or Fate that's Leaping you around in Time."

            "You want me to Leap?!" Sam screamed to the ceiling.  "You want me to Leap?!"  He stormed over to the window.  "Here's your goddamn Leap!"

            Rear Admiral Albert Calavicci, USN, watched helplessly as his best friend hurled his body through the window.

* * *

June 12, 2001

            The next few minutes had been a blur.  Al saw Sam's crushed skull on the pavement before being surrounded by the customary blue light.  Dr. Beeks had entered the Imaging Chamber then, and informed the Admiral that his best friend had returned to the Waiting Room – dead.

            He couldn't recall at exactly what point he resumed drinking again.  He'd been sober at the funeral, that much he could remember.  He'd tried to give his friend a fitting eulogy, but how do you do justice to the man who saved your life?  Sam was more than just a friend – he was a savior.  Sometimes, Sam had asked him why he spent his life helping him when the whole thing was the physicist's own fault for Leaping too early.  The best excuse he could ever conjure up was "Calaviccis don't give up on friends."

He lied.  After all years of being helped by Sam, the least he could do was return the favor.  And he had failed.  He had stubbornly believed that Sam's mind was merging with Bruce Merrick's.  By the time he realized his mistake it had been too late.

He pressed the bottle to his lips.  _Beckett, you're a nozzle!_ He thought grimly to himself.  A dark eye rested on a jagged piece of glass.  _How simple would it be?_ He wondered.  _I could end the pain for good._  He shuddered and brushed that thought aside.  _I can't give up like that._  He felt a tear trickle down his cheek but chose to ignore it.

_Aw, geez, Sam,_ he sobbed.  _Why'd you have to give up like that?  Why'd you have to die?_


	4. Leapers of the World Unite

Author's note:  Sorry I've taken so long to update.  Some excuses I can throw at you are writer's block, devotion to another fanfic I'm working on, and school work.  I finally got rid of some of that writer's block.  Enjoy this chapter and happy Leaping.

P.S.:  When a section is written in the point-of-view of a non-Leaper (or one of the other Leapers prior to the revealing of the auras), I refer to Sam, Alia, and Ziggy by their Hosts' names.

July 28, 1984

Alia ran her finger down the edge of her menu.  She wished someone or something would clue her into the details of her Host's life.  Did Linda Daniels have any allergies?  She herself had none (assuming, of course, that her Swiss-cheesed brain wasn't betraying her).  Unfortunately, if Linda had any allergies, and her aura bled through, Alia would feel the reactions.   She vaguely remembered Leaping into a nursing home patient.  It was during her time with Zoey and the Lothos Project; her mission was to kill an orderly.  She didn't mind killing that prick off, because he treated the patients like they were worthless animals.  Zoey had failed to mention that her Host had a severe peanut allergy.  Luckily, Lothos had yanked her from the situation, leaving the poor old woman to suffer the remaining moments of her life.

"May I take your order?"  The portly waitress brought the Leaper's mind to the present (or what was the present to those surrounding her).

Alia quickly scanned the menu and settled on a Spanish omelet with a side of hash browns.  "And a water, please – no lemon," she added.

She decided to run scenarios through her mind while she waited for her food to arrive.  

"Mom?" a voice asked.

Alia glanced up from her food to the sight of a blue-haired kid.  The girl looked to be no more than fifteen or sixteen-years-old.

"Hello, um, ah," she fumbled, silently cursing whatever entity placed her in these situations.

The girl dug her toe into the floor.  "Zi – Reba," she informed the Leaper, as if it was something she should have already known.  "It's me, Mom."

Alia nodded and absent-mindedly picked at her omelet.  "Nice to see you."

Reba turned to her left and scowled at an invisible object.  When she saw Alia staring, she quickly turned around.  "What are you doing here?" the teen asked forcefully.

The Leaper rubbed her hand over her mouth, in the vain attempt of concocting a feasible escape from the situation at hand.  "Sometimes, I ask myself the same question," she said.  _I ask myself that all the time and I've yet to receive a satisfactory answer._  "What are you doing here?"  _That's it, Alia.  Turn the question around to get information._

"Eating lunch," Reba answered.  "I, ah, recognized you."

_So much for gathering information,_ Alia thought to herself.  She decided to try a different approach.  "How's your father?"

"I guess okay," the girl replied.  She motioned to the empty seat across from Alia.  "Can I sit?"

Alia nodded.  "Go right ahead."

"Why did you come back here?" Reba asked, sliding into the booth.

The waitress returned with water, giving the Leaper more time to conjure up an answer.  "Come back where?" she asked, taking a swig of water.

"Back to Oregon."  Reba rubbed her hand over her mouth, and her eyes wandered to her left.  "You left over twelve years ago, and I don't think you had any plans to come back."

"I came back to see you."  _Please, God, let that be correct._  "I, uh, didn't recognize you with that hairdo."

The teen grinned.  "I'm almost afraid I'll get struck by lightning."

Alia laughed.  "I know the feeling," she muttered.  "Do you want anything to eat?" she asked.

Reba shook her head.  "Just ate, but thanks anyways."  She stood up and extended her hand to the Leaper.  "I gotta go," she said.  "Will I see you around?"

Alia clasped the girl's hand.  "I'm at the Motel 6 acro …"

Her words were drowned out as a flash of blue and white light engulfed them, melting away their auras.  Alia, having experienced this phenomenon before, only jumped in her seat.  The other Leaper, however, let out a sharp cry and backed herself against the wall.

* * *

December 21, 2000

            "I already told you, I got no information for you!" the man on the Waiting Room table snapped.

            "The sooner you cooperate with us, the sooner you can return home," Verbena advised him.

            Colonel Merrick shook his head and glared at the psychiatrist.  "I've heard that crock of shit before," he hissed.

            Verbena dug her fingers into her palms.  As a psychiatrist, she knew better than to inflict personal pain, but it was the only way to restrain herself from strangling the rude and uncooperative Leapee.  _Al has no idea how hard it is to keep a calm demeanor 24-7_, she thought.  _He at least can see the person as who they truly are.  The rest of us have to constantly remind ourselves that the angry man who looks like Sam Beckett isn't really Sam Beckett._  Pasting a smile on her face, she tried again.  "I wish I could tell you everything that's happening here, but I can't do that," she apologized.  "Top-secret government information," she added.  "Now, tell me, how has your mood been lately?"

            "How the hell do you expect me to remember my mood when I can't even remember my last name?"

            "Memory loss is a side-effect of the experience – it's only temporary," she quickly added.  "I apologize if these questions seem personal …"

            "You're damn right they're personal!" Merrick grunted.

            "Have you ever been treated for depression or post-traumatic stress syndrome?"

            He stood up and crossed his arms over his chest.  "Look, lady, I don't know what kind of doctor or headshrinker you think you are, but let me tell you something – I am not a nutcase."  He leaned over her.  "Got that?"

            "Nobody said you were."  She felt bad trying to force the Colonel to admit to symptoms of mental instability, but in order to treat him (and Sam), she had to know what she was working with.

            "If you don't mind, I'm all beat to hell," Merrick said.  "How'd you bring me here, anyways – lightning bolt?"  He rolled his eyes.  "No, don't tell me – I'm not classified to hear that information."

            Verbena exited the Waiting Room and headed toward her office.  She hated forcing patients to open up before they were ready, but when it came to the quantum physicist's life (and psyche), she had no other choice.  According to Al, Sam had been showing classic symptoms of depression.  If Merrick's mind was merging with the Leaper's, they had to know immediately.  She rounded a corner and bumped into Dr. Elizabeth Calavicci.

            "I'm sorry, Beth," Verbena apologized.  She bent down and helped the Chief Surgeon pick up the papers she had dropped.

            "That's quite alright," Beth said.  "You seem a bit distracted today.  Is anything wrong?"

            "Oh, no, nothing."

            Beth nodded and gathered up the last of the papers.  "Any luck with Colonel Merrick?"

            Verbena looked up.  "Pumping that man for information was like getting blood from a stone."

* * *__

July 28, 1984

            Ziggy finished tucking in the corner of the sheet and smoothed out the wrinkles.  She looked around for a blanket and found it crumpled under the bed – along with some Cheetos wrappers and a private Yankee Doodle stash.  _What if I clean up your room, and you get your father to a psychiatrist, _she whispered to her slovenly Host.   _That sound fair enough to you?_  After four hours of nonstop drumming, her ears were starting to ring.

            The Imaging Booth _whooshed_ open.  "I don't believe this!" Marina moaned.  She stuck her head out of the Booth.  "The kid's playing maid again!"  She stuck her head back into 1984.  "Lester says you should speak to his mother about that neatness fetish of yours," she said, pointing her thumb back behind her.  

            "It's called 'keeping busy'," the Leaper shot back.  She placed the blanket on the bed.  "Do something useful, why don't you," she said.  "Help me with this blanket."

            "Sorry, kid, no can do."  To prove her point, the Hologram floated through the bed.

            "Any more information about Reba's father?"  Marina stared at an invisible fly on the ceiling.  Ziggy crept up behind her friend and coughed.  "Well?"

            "Ya know, Dr. Worthington seems very nice."  Marina grinned.  "And she's got your first name – spelled the same way, too."

            "Don't change the subject," the young Leaper scolded.  She had to agree with her friend, though.  Alia Worthington was definitely a sweetheart.  After the initial shock of meeting another Time Traveler had worn off, the two of them actually had a pleasant conversation.  When they parted ways, they agreed to keep in close contact and assist each other when and where necessary.

            The Observer held up her hands in mock surrender.  "We got nil.  Nada.  Zero.  Zilch."

            "I think we get the picture," Ziggy said dryly.

            "Touché," Marina muttered.  "No records of him being depressed – er, before the suicide, that is."  The silvery blue hand link squealed.  She glanced at the information and then faced her friend.

            "What is it?" Ziggy pressed, noticing Marina's perplexed expression.  "What's going on?"

            Marina shook her head.  "Amazing," she mumbled.  "A man hurls himself from a third story window and survives intact."

            "Somebody besides the Colonel?"  

            "No, just Colonel Merrick."  She placed the hand link back into her pocket.

            Now it was Ziggy's turn to be confused.  "I thought you said he committed suicide."

            "Yeah, well …"

            "I'll wash the dishes if you want," Ziggy offered.  She stood and gathered up the dinner plates.

            "Zigster here is somewhat of a neat freak," Marina informed the Colonel.  "Don't be too tidy," she warned her friend.  "We don't want Reba's dad here getting a heart attack due to sudden changes in his daughter's cleanliness."

            Colonel Bruce Merrick looked up from his newspaper.  "I know a Ziggy," he said quietly.

            Leaper and Observer glanced at each other.   Ziggy brought the dirty dishes to the sink.  _Did that man just hear me?_ Marina wondered.  She decided to test him.  "If you can hear me, snap you fingers," she ordered.  He complied with the request.  _Oh boy!_  She peered at the man.  "You know, technically a person of your age shouldn't have to endure hearing my lovely voice."

            "Reba, why don't you tell you friend here that I find her jokes to be very tasteless," the man said.

            "I don't know what you're talking about," Ziggy responded in that innocent way of hers.

            Her Host's dad pounded his fist on the table.  "Damnit, girl!" he hissed.  He scrutinized Marina's getup.  "You look like you shopped at a flea circus."

            "Thanks," Marina said.  _Johnny, what the hell is going on here?_

            Ziggy returned to the table.  "That was a good meal, Dad," she complimented the man as she lifted the serving plate off the table.

            _He hardly touched a bite,_ Marina realized.  "Don't trust a chef who doesn't eat his own cooking," she whispered to the young Leaper.

            "Have you always had that white streak in your hair?" Merrick asked.  Marina watched, helplessly, as the serving plate flew from her friend's hands and leftover chicken Marsala splattered onto the floor.

            The Colonel retrieved a broom and knelt down besides his supposed daughter.  "Here, let me help you."

            "Don't worry, I've got it," Ziggy assured the man.  She placed her hand on the broom, accidentally brushing it over his hand.  When the blue and white light temporarily blinded her, she didn't panic.

            Marina shook her head and stared at the newest Leaper.  "Well, as much as I hate to quote the old man, this Leap has gone 'a bit kaka'."   


End file.
